Martha stood beside them.
‘You wanted to talk?’ she said to Elaine.
Cal gave her a look. ‘Just go easy.’
The forensics were heading from the door towards the fireplace. There was no colour in the room, everything now just black and white and grey, their whole lives laid out in monochrome.
‘Maybe we should go somewhere else,’ Cal said softly.
Elaine shook her head. ‘Where else can we go? This is our home. I want to stay here.’
‘There isn’t even anywhere to sit down, Mum.’
Martha looked around. The sun had disappeared behind Arthur’s Seat but the sky was still bright. One of those occasional Scottish spring evenings, bursting with possibilities for the summer, promises that were never fulfilled. The light was making the leaves on the trees across in Figgate Park shimmer.
Martha looked at her feet. Their little square of front lawn needed cutting. Stupid to think of that, when your whole house had gone up in flames, but that’s what came to her.
She could still smell the house, the destruction of it.
The forensics were at the fireplace now, poking amongst the ash and dust.
She turned to Elaine. ‘So tell us about Johnny Lamb.’
She got another look from Cal, ignored it.
Elaine nodded. ‘You deserve to know the truth.’
Martha had her hands on her hips. ‘Wow, after twenty years, thanks for that.’
Cal shook his head. ‘That’s not helping.’
Martha twitched her nose in disapproval.
Elaine didn’t turn to look at Cal or Martha, just kept staring at the forensics pair shuffling along on their knees through the ashes.
‘The truth is, I never told you about Johnny because I tried to put all that stuff out of my mind. It was a difficult time. You have to understand, we were all very young. You do all sorts of stupid stuff when you’re . . .’
‘Our age?’ Martha said.
Elaine nodded. ‘Exactly.’
Cal rubbed Elaine’s shoulder. ‘Why not start at the beginning, Mum?’
Elaine raised a hand to her forehead, like a cheap psychic pretending to get a message from beyond the grave.
‘I met Ian in the Southern Bar on Clerk Street, did you know that?’
She was talking as much to herself as to them.
‘The night Nirvana played there. He was cute and funny and interesting. We hit it off straight away. He was already working at the Standard, doing work experience as a student.’ She glanced at Martha. ‘He would’ve been very proud of you, you know.’
She turned away. ‘I thought we were in love. I suppose everyone does at that age. But there was always something at the back of my mind, something nagging away at me, that he wasn’t as into the whole thing as I was. I tried not to think about it, I didn’t want to be one of those paranoid girlfriends. We were smoking a lot of weed at the time, that didn’t help.’
Martha and Cal exchanged a look.
Elaine smiled. ‘You didn’t know that about your ancient mother, did you? I used to smoke skunk and weed, and take speed too. And drink like a fish.’
‘What happened to you?’ Martha said. She couldn’t help a note of sarcasm coming into her voice.
Elaine looked at her. ‘I got old, Martha. And you will one day too.’
‘Doesn’t mean you have to become completely numb. You totally shut yourself down.’
Elaine looked away again. ‘I had good reason for that.’
‘Look, I thought you were going to tell us about Johnny?’
Elaine sighed. ‘Ian was sleeping with a woman from the office. I knew it, but I never said anything. That’s why I slept with Johnny, to get back at Ian.’
‘You slept with your boyfriend’s brother?’ Martha said.
‘Don’t you judge me,’ Elaine said.
‘Why didn’t you just leave Ian?’ Cal said.
‘Good question,’ Elaine said. ‘I ask myself that a lot. But things were confused, complicated. After the incident with Johnny, that night, it didn’t really matter.’
‘Wait, what fucking incident?’ Martha said. ‘Is this to do with what happened on North Bridge in ’92?’
Elaine’s head snapped round. ‘How do you know about that?’
Martha just stared at her.
‘What do you know?’ Elaine said.
‘What should I know? Were you there?’
Elaine nodded. ‘We were all there.’
‘Who’s we?’
‘Me, Johnny, Ian. Gordon too.’
‘You mean Gordon Harris?’
‘Yes. And the woman Ian was sleeping with, Rose.’
Martha’s eyes widened. ‘Wait, Rose Brown?’
Elaine frowned and nodded.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Martha said. ‘Ian was fucking Rose? She was the other woman?’
‘Yes.’
‘Elaine, Rose is in a coma. She apparently tried to kill herself this morning. Only a few days after Gordon did the same thing. And Johnny is on the loose. What the fuck happened that night?’
Elaine looked confused. ‘What do you mean, Johnny is on the loose? You said before that he was in the Royal Edinburgh.’
‘Ian signed him out three days before he went off North Bridge. Elaine, this stinks – what the hell is going on?’
Elaine brought her hands up to her face. ‘Oh my God, I can’t . . .’
Martha grabbed her arms, shook her. ‘Yes you can, tell us.’
Cal tried to prise Martha’s hands away. ‘Hey, that isn’t helping.’
‘Fuck you.’
Cal separated them and pushed Martha away.
Elaine was crying into her hands.
Martha pointed at her. ‘I swear to God, Elaine, you better tell me what the fuck is going on here.’
Martha’s phone rang in her pocket. She glared at Elaine for a few seconds, Cal shaking his head in between them, then she pulled out her phone.
Billy. She pressed Answer.
‘Not a good time, Billy.’
He was on the move, out of breath.
‘Rose is awake,’ he said.
47
She felt like she was living in hospitals these days. Might as well move in, she didn’t have a home to go to any more.
Billy was waiting outside the main entrance holding a bunch of flowers.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ Martha said.
‘Very funny,’ Billy said.
‘No, I mean you shouldn’t have bought lilies. They’re for dead people.’
‘There are rules about flowers?’ He was already walking and pointing. ‘She’s in ward nineteen, apparently, this way.’
Took them ten minutes to find her through the corridors and double doors.
They pitched up in a sunny ward mostly full of old people, six to a room.
She was in the bed closest to the window.
Her skin was waxy, the pills still oozing out her system.
‘Rose,’ Billy said.
She turned and managed a thin smile. ‘Billy.’
He leaned in and kissed her, put the flowers on the table next to the bed.
Rose chuckled. ‘Lilies are for dead people,’ she said.
‘So Martha tells me. Sorry.’
Rose turned to Martha and raised her eyebrows.
‘Hey,’ Martha said, shuffling her weight. ‘You OK?’
Rose nodded then looked out the window. Getting dark now, but still a trace of blue at the edge of the world. ‘I thought they always gave the bed nearest the window to the one who was going to die next. Not a good sign.’
She laughed, more of a cough than anything, then turned back to Billy. ‘You two are quite the little double act. You make a cute couple.’
‘Never mind that,’ Billy said. ‘Just relax.’
Rose’s movements were tentative, she was clearly in a lot of pain. She looked at a glass tumbler next to the flowers. ‘Can you pass me that water?’ she said.
Bill
y obliged.
Martha watched. Rose had had the stuffing knocked out of her, that was for sure. Martha wondered if she’d had one of those life-affirming epiphanies you were always hearing about. A brush with death making you treasure every moment of life – blah-de-blah.
‘Thanks,’ Rose said, after a nervous sip. ‘I believe I have you two to thank for saving my life.’
‘It was Billy, really,’ Martha said. ‘He was amazing.’ The words surprised her as they left her mouth. ‘He got your stomach empty and kept you going until the ambulance arrived.’
Billy looked at her. ‘Well we wouldn’t have been there at all if Martha hadn’t seen your name on Johnny Lamb’s file at the Royal.’
Rose looked at Martha.
Johnny Lamb, the elephant in the room, Martha thought. The big, lumbering elephant in every fucking room she’d walked into in the last week, it felt like.
Martha pointed at Rose laid out in the hospital bed. ‘Johnny did this, right?’
Rose nodded.
Billy put a hand on top of Rose’s. ‘You don’t have to tell us just now.’
‘Yes she does,’ Martha said.
Rose smiled. ‘You’re right, of course I do.’
She pushed herself up in bed with careful, difficult movements.
‘You OK?’ Billy said.
She brushed away his concern with a tiny flick of a wrist, taking her hand away from his.
‘He turned up at my front door, just like that,’ she said. ‘This morning. If this is the same day, is it?’
Billy nodded.
‘I wasn’t even dressed. I was drinking tea and looking out the window. Beautiful skies this morning. Then the buzzer went. Johnny. After twenty years. He had a gun.’
She stopped for a moment. ‘I’ve never had a gun pointed at me. It doesn’t look too bad on television and in films, but something strange comes over you when it really happens. I was paralysed to begin with. He pushed in and took over. Began ordering me about. He seemed calm, though. Like it was just a bit of business. We went to the bedroom and he tried to get me to take the whole bottle of my Xanax. I snapped out of it and refused. He hit me. But he was careful, punches to the body, nothing that would show straight away.’
Her voice was wavering.
‘It’s OK,’ Billy said.
‘Eventually he pinned me down and put the gun . . . up me.’ She turned away. ‘Said he was going to blow my insides to pieces if I didn’t take the pills.’
Martha looked down at her feet. Heard Rose crying.
‘So I took them. He had gin to wash it down. I drank it.’
Rose wiped at her face.
‘Then he relaxed. Just waited. Obviously, he wanted it to look like suicide. I felt groggy. He was standing over me. That’s the last I remember until an hour ago.’
Martha swallowed. ‘Why’s he doing this, Rose?’
‘What’s the oldest motive in the world?’
Martha looked her in the eye. ‘Revenge? For all those years locked up?’
‘Bingo.’
‘Did he kill Ian and Gordon for the same reason?’
‘I don’t know for sure, but I think so.’
Martha came over and touched the bed next to Rose’s hand.
‘Jesus, what happened that night?’
Rose sighed. ‘I hadn’t thought about Johnny Lamb in years until a couple of weeks ago. When Ian was found dead under North Bridge, it brought everything back.’
‘You know Ian was my dad,’ Martha said.
Rose frowned. ‘Billy told me.’
‘So,’ Martha said. ‘That night?’
‘It was Teenage Fanclub,’ Rose said.
‘The band?’ Martha thought of Ian’s cassettes. ‘What do they have to do with it?’
‘That was the gig we were all at,’ she said. ‘It was a disaster. Not the band, they were great. But the atmosphere was poisonous because of what had been going on for months beforehand.’
‘You mean you sleeping with Ian, and Elaine sleeping with Johnny?’
Martha’s phone rang, breaking the spell.
‘Fuck,’ she said.
She took it out her pocket. Elaine. She stared at it for a moment. A long moment. Then finally pressed Answer.
‘Martha?’ It was a man’s voice. A familiar voice. The guy who had phoned her at the office and hung up.
‘Yes.’
‘If you want to see your mum alive one last time, come to North Bridge right now.’
48
The taxi turned onto North Bridge and Martha saw the flashing lights.
‘Stop at the cop car,’ Billy said, digging money out.
The taxi driver spoke over his shoulder. ‘Looks like another jumper, eh?’
‘Jesus,’ Martha said.
They hadn’t even closed the road, that’s what struck her. Life-or-death stuff going on here, and people were still getting on and off buses, heading to the pub or home from work.
A police car and an ambulance were parked in the bus lane halfway up the road. Martha knew exactly what was below that part of the bridge. Platform 8.
The best place to die.
A female cop ushered pedestrians off the pavement, round the bus lane, then on their way. A few people had stopped to watch, which was clearly annoying the cop.
A male cop was standing talking to two people sitting on the wide spread of wall on the edge of the bridge. Two other cops were standing at the police car, one on the radio. A couple of paramedics hovered at the back of the ambulance, waiting. Wouldn’t be much use up here if the jumpers went over. Should be down below, surely?
Billy threw a tenner at the driver as Martha jumped out, the taxi still moving. She stumbled as she hit the ground, then found her feet again.
‘Just go around,’ the cop said, waving her arms.
Martha shook her head. ‘I think that’s my mum.’
She couldn’t see clearly, it was dark now, just the fizz of streetlights. The small pools of light didn’t extend to the wall of the bridge.
The cop looked at Martha and Billy, then turned. ‘Jim?’
The cop standing next to the couple on the wall came over.
‘Says she’s the woman’s daughter.’
The cop took her elbow. ‘Come on.’
Billy followed. ‘I’m with her.’
The woman shrugged and went back to waving her arms at passers-by.
Martha ran over to the wall.
Elaine was crying. She was sitting on the wall, facing out over the ledge, held in a tight grip around the neck by a tall, gaunt man who had a gun pointing into her side. He looked like Ian, but taller, broader. More handsome, but a wild look on his face.
‘You made it,’ he said.
‘Johnny,’ Martha said.
‘Correct.’ Johnny looked behind Martha. ‘And this must be Calvin?’
‘No, I’m Billy.’
Johnny looked at Martha. ‘Who the fuck is Billy?’
‘A friend.’
A voice from behind them. ‘What the hell?’
Martha turned. ‘This is Cal,’ she said, as Cal ran past the cop to join them.
‘Good, good,’ Johnny said. ‘All the family together at last, eh?’
He laughed. It was about as far from a happy sound as Martha had ever heard.
Cal edged towards the two of them. ‘Just let her go, you fuck.’
‘Take it easy, big guy.’ Johnny pushed the gun into Elaine’s back and she let out a cry then a whimper that made Cal stop.
Johnny turned to the cop.
‘You, get over to the car.’
‘I can’t do that, sir.’
Johnny pointed the gun in his face. ‘You can if you don’t want me to begin shooting everyone on this bridge, starting with you.’
The cop put his hand out. ‘Just stay calm, sir.’
‘I bet it’s killing you, calling me sir, am I right?’
There was something manic about Johnny. Something loose. Martha wondered
how the hell he was ever released. Had he been like this for twenty years?
She turned to the cop. ‘Shouldn’t you be doing something about this?’
He shrugged. ‘Waiting on CIT.’
‘CIT?’
‘Crisis intervention team. They’re the experts.’
Martha shook her head. ‘Fuck’s sake.’ She turned to Johnny. ‘Please let Elaine go.’
Johnny shook his head.
‘Whatever this is about, we can sort it out,’ Martha said. She was disgusted at the sound of her own voice, so unconvincing. Pathetic. If she were Johnny, she wouldn’t listen either.
‘Oh, we’re going to sort it out, all right,’ Johnny said.
Cal shook his head. ‘You need help.’
Johnny laughed again, bitter and nasty. ‘I’ve had all the fucking help I can take, thank you very much.’
He turned to Elaine. ‘Why don’t you tell them why we’re all here?’
Elaine was a wreck, tears and snot on her face.
Johnny grabbed the back of her hair and forced her head forwards so that she was looking out over the drop down to the station. She yelped. He yanked her head backwards.
‘Tell them,’ he said. ‘Tell them what you all did to me that night.’
‘We didn’t do anything, Johnny,’ Elaine said. ‘You did it to yourself.’
‘You fucking liar.’ He rabbit-punched her in the side of the head.
Cal, Martha and Billy took a step forward.
Johnny relaxed and pointed the gun at them. ‘Stop.’
Martha had her hands out, pleading. ‘Look, we know what you’ve done, but we can help.’
‘You know what I’ve done?’ Johnny looked round. ‘What I’ve done? Really? Why don’t you enlighten us all with your pearls of wisdom.’
Martha just wanted to keep him talking. As long as they were talking, no one was jumping or shooting.
‘You killed your brother, right here.’
Johnny shook his head. He made a sound that might even have been a tut. ‘And you call yourself a journalist, can’t even get your facts straight.’
Martha frowned. ‘How do you know anything about me?’
Johnny smiled. ‘It’s the twenty-first century, it’s all just a mouse click away. Very different world to the one I knew when I went away.’
‘But you did kill Ian here,’ Martha said.
The Dead Beat Page 16
